


Garcy Weekend, April 2020

by potterandpromises



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Books, Canonical Character Death, Croatia, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Established Relationship, F/M, Flash Fic, Garcy Weekend, Mood Board, Nature, Non-Graphic Violence, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Prompt Fic, Season/Series 01, a little hand kink, as a treat, i think that just about covers it, used bookstores
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:48:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23560099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potterandpromises/pseuds/potterandpromises
Summary: Last weekend in an effort to cope, I posted a prompt list on Tumblr and fulled the requests in a rapid fashion. These are the results.
Relationships: Garcia Flynn/Lucy Preston
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	1. Red + Traveling (Moodboard)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Try as I did, I couldn't manage to embed it, so here's the link instead.
> 
> For Anonymous.

<https://potterandpromises.tumblr.com/post/614371584757645312/garcy-traveling-red-for-anon-garcy-weekend>


	2. Hands (Fic)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For celtrose-ish // Celtrose

At some earlier point, he caught her hand, entangled their fingers, pressed them flat. Now, he holds them up for inspection, illuminated by the moon. She realizes, with the little adjustments he makes, that he’s comparing the size. Yes, he surrounds her.

Completely ready, she guides them between her lags, brushing her other hand.


	3. Literature (Fic)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For magnificentcowboypeanutpaper // Kitcat300 and battleshipgarcy // GarcysFlereal

They walk carefully down concrete steps, a narrow passageway into the belly of the bookstore. It’s almost like a mission, snooping somewhere forbidden, though this section is open to patrons. She glances at a curtain and half-expects a Rittenhouse sleeper’s assault. Her heart races. It’s as invigorating as it is terrifying.

“Lucy?”

“I’m okay. Just… don’t worry if I disappear for a bit.” He frowns, watching a moment longer, then nods. 

As planned, they separate. She skims uneasily though a few mismatched, unorganized shelving units, picking out a basic history book. It helps to not be in the dark about the many consequences of what they did. It helps to know things she can tell people, to not _always_ be questioning—

No, they’re here to have _fun_. She peaks behind the curtain, hundreds of books stacked on the floor, on a cart.

She rushes, stumbles, catches herself. Up the stars and into natural light, a high ceiling. This place is really quite beautiful.

Not wanting to cling, Lucy admires a couple hundred-year-old books, and after some mental debate, picks up a box of photographs labeled ‘1965, 25¢ a pop.’

When she feels it’s been a little too long, she goes back, textbook and treasure in hand.

She finds him, utterly still, in front of the children’s books.

“Garcia?” She touches his forearm, and he looks at her without seeing. In his hands, a well-loved copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.

“Lorena wanted to read this to her. I thought it’d be a bit dark, that she was a little too young for it.” He turns it over. “I kind of.. wish we hadn’t waited.” He draws in a shaky breath. “You know?”

All the things Iris Flynn will never do. First because of Rittenhouse, then her own carelessness and— and faith. Then Rittenhouse again, Emma. Her throat feels tight. She squeezes his arm. “Do you want to leave?”

He shakes his head.

“I saw, um, some comfy-looking chairs upstairs. Do you want to sit for awhile?“ 

He looks at her, then all around, nodding slowly.

She leads him away, watching his gaze as it catches on a few toddler books that she recognizes from Amy’s childhood, too.

She runs her thumb back and forth over his skin, and he follows her out in a haze.


	4. Trapped (Fic)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Anonymous.

Three guards manhandle Flynn into a damp, filthy prison cell. Then his day gets considerably better. 

(She doesn’t feel the same way, but he knew that already. Like the presence of a cloth-stuffed hole in his lag, made by a hunting knife of all things, he knows.)

Dirty, knees to her chest, Lucy glares at him in the dim light. “Fancy seeing you here,” he says sarcastically, once the guards have left. 

He approaches, slouching. She doesn’t even bother to look at him— which he supposes is a sign of trust as well as contempt. He sits next to her, against the oddly damp wall, and studies the door, the bars. “So, are we escaping together now or…?”

She looks at him, annoyed, and he reciprocates. But then she rests her forehead on her knees. He considers how her cloak acts as a blanket, and the hand tucked underneath. He swallows.

“I need to…” She finches but doesn’t fight, watches like he might hurt her. Very gently, he brushes his fingers over hers. He already knows. 

They come away bloody. 


	5. Protection (Fic)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For ununpredictableme // DraejonSoul

She was only out of his sight for a minute.

_It was dark. He was asleep._

And _she is_ alive. Rise and fall. Alive and bloodied. Alive and medicated to help her feel less alive.

Tears prickle. He runs his fingers though his hair.

Minutes or an hour later, her eyes flutter open and he’s still. He hadn't planned to be here when she woke up. 

But she doesn't look upset. Probably the drugs. "Hi.” Her voice is hoarse.

"Welcome back."

"You weren't here earlier. Will you stay with me?"

He keeps vigil. In the morning, they watch the sunrise. 


	6. After (Fic)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For even-in-winter

Afterward, he can only assume Denise Christopher had strong opinions on what happened to him. Luckily, and this is news to him, it seems he’s gotten on her good side after all these years. Or maybe it was Lucy openly threatening to break him out of prison herself if it came to that. Either way, he was brought straight from what was basically a fancy holding cell to an office, where she asked him to write a check for one dollar. In exchange, he was given a set of keys and told to check in once a week.

The same day, Lucy jumped into his arms and they were free. 

“It just looks like a normal, abandoned house,” she says. “Probably built sometime in the 1920s.”

“That’s the idea.” The underbrush has overtaken what he imagines was farm land before the government bought it. He can see why they were willing to part with it. Though he doubts it’ll cave in. At least not immediately.

She shakes her head. “I don’t know. I thought it would be more… exciting.”

“They want to keep me busy and isolated from the general population.” She runs a hand through her hair. “But you don’t have to stay here. Hell I don’t have to stay here. We can go right now if it doesn’t work.”

She looks at him, tired and decided. “Where?”

“Fair enough.” He nods once. “Stay here while I clear it.”

He opens the door of the rental car— a situation they’re going to have to change sooner rather then later, and pauses, hand on the gun he purchased this morning. “Assuming this place has a working oven, do you want to bake a loaf of bread sometime?”

“I— Yeah. I don’t know how to.” She snorts, giving the house a narrow look. “It says a lot that the idea of living somewhere without a working oven doesn’t bother me more.”

He smiles, a little sadly. “Just flour, water and time.”

“I’d like that.”


	7. For Fun (Fic)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For timelessgarcygirl

Lucy doesn't know how long she’s been out here with the early greens of spring, wild grass relentlessly scratching into her back. When a concerned Flynn finds her, she gestures for him to join and they both lay there, staring at the sky.

Eventually, storm clouds roll in. Lucy's glad for the change in secrecy. "We should head inside." She waves him off, eyes closed, completely uninterested. "Do you want to talk about it or be distracted?”

She shakes her head because, if anything, she’d like to lie flat in this clearing and see how long she can stand rain poring down on her.

Movement. She flinches, opens her eyes to him above her on all fours. He clears his throat, expression unreadable. There’s a flutter low in her belly. "If you could do anything" —he looks up, toward the trees, tongue darting out— "Anything _for fun_ , what would you do?" 

In a fluid motion indicative of his fighting skills, he’s no longer surrounding her. Pity. He holds out a hand and she takes it, if only because she’s tired. 

“M?” he prompts as they slowly make their way among the brambles, back to the safe house.

"It doesn't matter.” Her tone is harsher then expected— he only wants to help— but she has nothing left to give. “We can't go anywhere and I don't feel like starring at a screen."

Although no longer fun, alcohol has remained a constant. She'd get drinks with Amy. She got drinks with the team, once, that was nice. She'd watch reality TV after work, when mom was asleep, and listen to podcasts on the way. First only Amy's, then she found others and it became a habit that died with her old life. She wants to tell him all this, but she just doesn’t have the energy.

"What about paper?" She gives him a questioning, wary look. "What do you read for fun?"

"I... I don't know. It's been a long time." Had it, though? She read fiction while in the bunker, and by the calendar, that was only six weeks ago. However, she can’t remember any names or many details— a historian! what's become of her? The last time she hurt someone, it made her feel alive.

As if on queue, droplets fall and she can’t remember the path she took, they all look the same. Flynn walks over to what she trusts is the correct narrow trail and gestures for her to go first. 

"What are you reading?" she asks after a minute.

"You know the si-fi book Jiya had the other day?"

"The one she threw across the room?"

He flashes a mischievous smile, hair wet. "That's how I knew it had to be good."

"Was it?"

"No.” They pass a crumbling brick structure. She realizes she traveled farther then intended. “But we have other books. We can find you something that isn't this."

Probably a good idea, given 'this' is looking quite bleak, and she finds herself, not for the first time, thankful for his experience. 

"Would you read to me?" She's not sure what makes her blurt it out, only that she probably can’t focus on words right now and she likes being with him sometimes. Most of the time. 

He looks at her, nods once. 

"I'm sorry if I scared you earlier. I only meant to get your attention."

She has to think back. "It's alright, I was just startled."

The rain picks up, her pace doesn't. She's worried about the direction again when Flynn lays his jacket over her shoulders.


End file.
